Summer Romance With The Italian Tycoon. Jessica Gilmore
a long, rambling speech—because in the end all they cared about was each other. Maddie would watch those couples swaying later in the evening, eyes locked, and her heart would ache. Would anyone ever look at her that way—or would she always be practical, helpful Madeleine with the right name, the right upbringing and the right can-do attitude?
All she wanted was someone, some day to look at her as if she was their whole world.
Maybe she should get a dog.
She turned at the sound of voices in the courtyard behind her office. She’d waved off the last party yesterday and the rooms had all been cleaned and made up ready for the next, so no one should be out there. Maddie stood up to see better, but couldn’t see anybody.
Stretching, she snapped her laptop shut, deciding she wasn’t going to get much more done today; another wedding party would be arriving tomorrow and the exhausting cycle would begin again. Technically she was supposed to take the two days between bookings off, but she rarely did. There would be plenty of time for leisure and adventure when she finally had enough saved to begin travelling properly.
Picking up her bag, she stepped over to the little oval door which took her onto the covered balcony walkway with stone steps leading down into the courtyard. Her office was at the very back of the castle, overlooking the beautiful, cobbled courtyard with its gracious arches, flower-filled pots and imposing marble fountain which marked the centre.
Madeleine had been offered a room in the castle, but she had taken a small apartment in a chalet on the outskirts of the village. She had grown up surrounded by the old and grand at Stilling Abbey. She knew all about graceful arches and medieval halls and battlements. About draughty corridors and smoking chimneys, about slippery, steep stone steps and tiny windows which let in hardly any light. About furniture older than most people could trace back their family trees and dirty oil paintings featuring disapproving-looking ancestors.
No. Let the brides and grooms exclaim over the romance of it all from their four-poster bed while she went home to her little one-bedroom apartment with its glorious view of the lakes and its humble furnishings chosen for comfort alone. There wasn’t a single antique, nothing worth more than a handful of euros in the apartment, and Maddie liked it that way, although she knew her mother would wince at the clashing bright colours of the throws and cushions with which Maddie had personalised her little home.
She started down the old stone steps, mentally totting up all the things she needed to do the next day, not registering the small group in the corner of the courtyard until she reached the ground. The sound of her heels on the cobbles must have advertised her presence because the three men all stopped talking and turned as one. Maddie paused, smiling automatically, registering her boss, the castle general manager, Guido, and an older man she recognised as one of the accountants from the Falcone headquarters in Rome.
Her heart stuttered to a stop as her gaze moved on to the third man. What was the bather from the lake doing here? By the flare in his blue eyes he was as surprised to see her as she him—but then, it was a tiny valley, one small village, where everyone knew each other. The chances of the mystery man not being connected with the castle were far less than running into him.
After the first flare of surprise his expression smoothed into neutrality as he stepped forward. ‘Nice to meet you again, signorina.’
Guido looked from one to another. ‘You know one another?’
‘We ran into each other at the lake, but we haven’t been formally introduced,’ he said.
Maddie clenched her fists at the mocking tone in his voice, but managed to twist her mouth into a smile. ‘Literally ran into each other. My fault.’
‘I believe the signorina was transfixed by the view.’
Maddie’s fists tightened as her smile widened. ‘My mind was elsewhere,’ she agreed, trying her best not to let him see how easily he riled her.
‘Maddie is one of our hardest workers. We are very lucky to have her.’ Guido stepped in, to Maddie’s profound relief. ‘Dante, this is Madeleine Fitzroy; she looks after all the weddings here at the castello. Maddie, let me introduce you to Conte Falcone.’
Maddie had already started to extend her hand and continued the motion automatically, even as her mind raced with the new information. It wasn’t the dark-haired man’s title that threw her—most of Maddie’s family had titles—it was the realisation that he was her employer. The first employer she had ever had and he’d seen her ogling him down at the lake. Was that an automatic disciplinary?
‘You’re the events planner?’ He sounded as surprised as Maddie felt as he took her hand. It was just a brief touch, but a jolt shocked up and down her arm, her nerves tingling from the encounter.
‘I... Yes. I...’
Nicely done, Maddie; pull yourself together.
After all, she’d had tea with the Queen three times and managed to make polite conversation over the finger sandwiches just fine. There was no way this tall man with the sardonic smile was more intimidating than meeting the Queen of England. ‘I’ve been here nearly a year now; I started last September.’ A couple of months after her non-wedding, desperate to get away from the limelight she had found herself in, away from the camera lenses and the headlines, from her mother’s disapproving and palpable disappointment. A friend of a friend had mentioned that she knew of a job somewhere remote in the Italian Dolomites for someone with good organisational skills and fluent Italian, and Maddie had jumped at the opportunity.
‘You approved her appointment before you went back to Roma at the end of last summer,’ Guido said. ‘Maddie managed events at two similar venues in England.’
So her CV had carefully omitted that one of those venues was her own ancestral home and the other belonged to her ex-fiancé? The blatant nepotism and lack of a salary didn’t change the fact that Maddie had managed them both expertly, and she had had no qualms about using that experience to get herself a real paying job.
‘Si, I remember. I was expecting someone a little older, that is all. I seem to remember at least eight years’ experience at the highest level...’
‘I started working young,’ Maddie said, lifting her bag higher onto her shoulder, signalling clearly that, lovely as this encounter was, she had somewhere else to be.
‘Obviously.’ His smile didn’t reach his eyes and Maddie shifted, uncomfortable with the scrutiny.
‘Are you in a hurry?’ Guido asked her. ‘I was planning to show the Conte some of the changes you have made to the accommodation. But you can explain your thinking much better than I can, if you have time to accompany us.’
Maddie shifted again. Usually she would jump at the opportunity to showcase some of her work; she was proud of what she had achieved over the last few months. But she felt uneasy spending any more time under Dante Falcone’s all too penetrating glance.
‘I’m sure the signorina has more inspiring things to do with her evening; a walk around the lake perhaps?’ the Conte drawled, his eyes gleaming at her.
Maddie tilted her chin defiantly. ‘Of course I’d be glad to show you around. If you’d like to follow me?’
Maddie’s job revolved in and around the courtyard. The top two storeys of the old stables which made up two sides of the rectangle had been converted into guest accommodation, comfortably housing around sixty guests in comfortable en-suite bedrooms. The ground floor of one block was fitted out with a sitting room, a library and a games room, whilst the other block was home to the large dining room serving breakfasts and dinners throughout the week, as well as a drying room for walking boots or skis for the more adventurous wedding guests.
The oldest part of the castle made up the third side of the quad. The medieval hall was often used for the wedding ceremony and reception, although in summer some guests preferred to hold the wedding al fresco. That was just one of the innovations Maddie had brought in when she had been appointed.
Now